#abrasion

[env0]

That did a number on my shoulder

[unsettlingconclusions]

This storyline is grating on my nerves so much, but so much atp that im starting to see through Carla’s eyes how much Lisa is part of the problem

Omg

Is that the sound of me

Turning coat and joining the group that wants Carla to stay away from her forever?

Lisa, do something to take me out of this agonyyyyy. Seriously woman move idk idk

[yeoldegodzilla]

Medieval glassmakers were known to put images of Godzilla on their vessels. This apparently was done to ward off illness.

[stan-morley]

all my OOMFs* understand this; Can You say the Same?

*One Ofmy Morley Friends

[texttexttexttexttexttext]

don't pick up a machete if you're drunk lol aaaa

[grandadmiralprawn]

Abrasion, Final Chapter

Note: Final Chapter! Okay so to anyone following this story, I am so very sorry for how long it takes me to update…and I’m especially sorry for this ending. I feel like I've lost my writing groove, so don't hold your breath for quality here!

Warnings: Swearing, implications of violence, sexual references, charater death 

Word Count: 2512

Chapter 5: Mygeeto

19.37 BBY

[Bacara POV]

It was snowing.

No, rather it was almost snowing with ash cascading so heavily that despite the filters offered by his bucket, he still could feel the sour, smokey residue coating his tongue. It clogged his ears; his nostrils fiercely - enough that he worried about his own perceptions more than he had ever been comfortable with.

In some ways Mygeeto reminded him of Kamino; an endless torrential downpour cascading over sleek, steel platforms with glaring overheads piercing the fog just enough to illuminate the slippery ground. 

He fucking hated Kamino too. 

Though, instead of the relentless ebony waves of his birth land below, Mygeeto gave way to even more crossing paths, climbing high enough to rival even the levels of Coruscant. In fact, it felt as though the whole planet was an amalgamation of intersecting and narrowing platforms, it was chaotic but in some ways it gave them more room to better allocate men and resources. Indeed, the Padowan was leading a charge of men - some three levels down from Bacara’s own excursion, whereas the General sought out the tactical droid above. The, being the optimum word - given the seemingly endless wealth of the Banking Clan, Bacara would not be surprised to encounter more than one clanking tactician leading the opposition. He didn’t care much for politics, that was best left to Cody with his General; the King of negotiation, or even Fox who knew more gossip than most Senators. Yet, Bacara knew enough of the Banking Clan to understand that they favoured a bureaucratic regime. They enforced order and structure, which in a military context he might have found impressive. However, it also meant they were easily swayed by hidden clauses, trickery and credits. Not surprising that their allegiance soon turned to the CIS.

A stray shot hit a gutter above him, causing it to crack and unleash a solid mass of congealed ash and dirt squarely in front of his boots - its impact sending more clouds of dust to dissipate into his vision. The evening before, the Padawan had been murmuring something about a jungle, her broken, sleepy syntax alluding to hot terrain and clear skies - it sounded much more appealing than this. That had been new, both the revelation that his usually composed Jedi talked in her sleep, and the fact that he'd stayed by her side long enough to witness such a discovery. Maybe it’s because he knew their time was limited - her trials were fast approaching and thus, her place with the general and the Novas would end. He won't complain outwardly, but Bacara supposed he'd be saddened. 

Another development from last night occurred when he kissed her. Purposefully, he missed her mouth; barely grazing the corner of her lips in order to maintain at least some shred of distance, but it felt warranted. He was fond of her, maybe slightly enamoured if he was being truthful. Enamoured -  kark, what a stupid word.

 Officially, the arrangement between them remained casual - as appropriate, but he wasn't so stubborn as to convince himself that they had continued to act accordingly. It didn't bother him nearly as much as it should.  In the strictest,  most loosest sense they hadn't even had sex - one last barrier for them both to seek cover behind before they admitted that this, whatever it was had been blown way past the scope either intended. Sex could be casual of course and he, like many beings of the galaxy, enthusiasticaly partook in such affairs. Yet, with the Padawan it felt wrong to rush matters and Bacara was left to face the inevitable; what had started as a mutually beneficial arrangement for stress relief, was growing to a shared affection. Sex, would wait. And, when - if it did happen, he refused to be the initiator. It had to come from her, a crude but clear reassurance that she did a) trust and b) value him. That being said, he didn’t feel as though they were missing out on much in the physical aspect - especially as she was so eager to show her appreciation of his training techniques from all those weeks ago; politely requesting that he teach her to reciprocate. He was more than obliging, and Nalani’s nervous almost scientific curiosity quickly waned into smug satisfaction. 

Bacara was pulled from his thoughts as a new blizzard of ash caught the back of his throat and he was forced to hack smoke-filled phlegm into his mouth. The Marshal didn’t dare remove his helmet and face the current elements, and so, cursed himself for every moment he had ever expressed pride for accomplishments in war as he was forced to swallow the freshly coagulated spit and cinders. Glory for the Republic indeed. 

He wondered how Nalani was fairing, did she hate ash as much as she hated sand? He’d heard her Regiment teasing her about it as they departed, joking that they’d find a spare bucket if she needed it. She politely declined, albeit with an amused grin, but he had no doubt that if she agreed the men would have rushed to find one for her. The General had even chuckled, going as far as lamenting the fact they’d never find one to fit him as he passed in a flurry of robes to his waiting Division. The hangar had erupted, a ruckus of camaraderie and morale so joyous that it would have put even the di’kuts in the 501st to shame.

He felt a jet of heat whizz past his thigh suddenly, and looked up just in time to see a flash of ruby emerge from the smoke clouds ahead; just missing his left shoulder. Dammed droids can't even aim. He didn’t have to signal his men, automatically they fell into the fray - hurling grenades into the fog and seeking cover behind discarded machinery. The grenades exploded in a plume of blue fire almost simultaneously, dissipating the smoke enough to reveal at least three rows of unblinking clanker-eyes firing back. There was barely enough time for Bacara to take out four of them before the ash shrouded them once more.

The only way to locate the enemy was blaster fire and stompings of metal feet. Bacara did signal his men then, hold position - draw them out. Strapping his blaster carbine back to his waist and pulling his DC-15A from his back, the Commander prepared himself for blindly shooting into the obscurity ahead. He nodded at a newly promoted Commander Dance who in turn signalled three Novas to begin setting up a turret.

A nasally, robotic “uh-oh” emerged from the fog just before the ground shook in a burst of fire, revealing that Hands’ grenade had scattered at least a dozen of the battle droids. Bacara grinned, managing to hit at least seven of the bastards - decapitating one, before the ash hid them from sight again. A shrill scream echoed from behind him, followed by another explosion and several dull thuds. Forcing himself to ignore the sounds of his nameless soldiers' last gasps for air, Bacara’s grin curled into a snarl as he watched two droideka roll out from the smokey curtain - rapidly targeting the men desperately rushing to make the turret operational. 

The relentless ash, and now actual snow, must have hidden more than he thought as the stream of droids never ceased. They should have re-grouped with the General by now and Bacara found himself cursing himself for getting distracted as a shot grazed the gap between his shoulder and breastplate. It didn’t penetrate, merely scuffed the armour and left a red-hot graze against his undersuit, exposing the raw, singed flesh to the elements - but the droid who’d fired was now visible. Bacara found himself launching from cover and vaulting into another - right at the border of their skirmish. The droid, clearly now having identified him as the Commander, stepped forward but Bacara managed to grab it by it’s flimsy neck just as it’s weapon geared up - he twisted the doid so that it fired on it’s own squadron in surprise before Bacara yanked it back into cover with him. Kicking its weapon from its flailing grip, Bacara managed to pin it’s chest beneath his boot and pull its head free from the body. At least New Bornalex had taught him something.

It was at that moment his comm activated, without looking he answered the call, switched back to his carbine now that long range was no longer required and released a stream of fury at the droideka facing the turret - now operational. The clanker's shields began waning under the combined fire as an ARC’s voice crackled from the comm. The line was shaky at best, amidst the onslaught Bacara barely identified the following words. “Acquired…Hammertong…a success, Commander.”

A CIS grenade emerged between his feet then, and Bacara would later swear that he felt the thing begin to open seconds before he managed to grasp and launch it at the droideka surrounding the corpses of his men at the turrent. It was the final blast needed to deplete their shields and Bacara took out one with a series of shots to its chest as another trooper vaulted onto the turret and ended the last. “Good.” He grit to the comm channel on his wrist. “Excellent ARC Trooper, join Commander Mahoe - do not state your previous whereabouts.” 

Understood.” The voice quipped, dissolving the channel in time for Bacara to deflect yet another grenade - this time into the enemy’s line, parting the obscurity enough to see that they had accomplished significant ground. Stalking into the clouds, he gestured for his men to follow. 

The ARC and his squadron, loaned from the 501st, had done well; the completion of Operation Hammertong instilled new confidence and determination in Bacara - a bit of a relief too if he was being honest. In brief, the Chancellor wanted an energy crystal retrieved from a banking clan generator - why this had to be kept from the Jedi (and most of his troops) Bacara did not understand. He didn’t particularly like keeping things from the General and Commander, but Bacara was not in any position nor desire to question the Chancellor. Despite this, he had an exceptionally hard time explaining to the latter two exactly why the Chancellor had sent an ARC trooper and a 501st squadron to Mygeeto with them and he still isn’t convinced that he covered his tracks enough to keep their main objective secluded. 

Without any cover, Bacara resumed firing on the swiftly depleting droids - the whole situation had taken a U-turn without warning. It was almost as though the fight was leaving the enemy. Even the sounds of blaster fire on the platforms below seemed to simmer down to embers. Bacara raised his weapon to the one of the few clankers blocking his path when a rush of blue quickly soared through its waist, before boomeranging back into the hand of General Mundi. 

Two quick shots from men either side of him cleared the ground for the General to glide towards him, he was alone - Bacara had witnessed the carnage, experienced the elements of Mygeeto first hand, but he refused to believe that Mundi had lost his entire group - even if he had taken a smaller team with him. However, Bacara also refused to believe that given the choice, Mundi would abandon his men. 

Uncharacteristically shaken, Mundi stuttered out Bacara’s full title in acknowledgement before composing himself. “General Grievous has fallen.” He resumed, voice raw against the chilling winds of ash. “This may well be our last battle, Commander.”

Grievous. Dead?! Bacara felt his chest rattle as if he had been struck. It could be over? It could actually be over - the war; his whole life’s purpose finally realised - Galactic freedom and peace restored. Everything seemed to still at once, the wind stopped lashing against his exposed skin, the ice no longer biting through his armour - even his tongue felt lighter irrespective of the dust still pasted to it. He couldn't move. 

A whooping emerged from his men, cheering and chanting their amazed joy, it thawed Bacara’s frozen state enough that he lifted his helm; allowing the general to see the broad grin emanating from his chapped lips. “Let’s make it count, General.”

More hollers and cheers erupted around them as Bacara fastened his bucket securely back in place and led his men to follow the General further into enemy territory.

[Break]

“Come on!” The General, the Jedi had the nerve to look flustered by the Clones’ lack of movement - his voice straining against the wind and echoing his confusion. 

Marshall Commander CC-1138 may have laughed at the suggestion of a Jedi coup once, but as he willed his legs to gravitate towards the traitor, order 66 relaying over and over again in his mind amidst the bodies of fallen comrades, all he could see were bloodied flashes of hatred and betrayal. 

When the Cerean’s head hit the ground mere moments later, wisps of cloud-like hair turned grey in the rubble still fluttering, CC-1138 could only wish he’d killed him sooner. 

He betrayed the trust of every one of us.

[Break]

Her back faced him, grazes and faint slashes decorating the pink, exposed skin of her shoulders. Her wounds were nothing, nowhere as severe as what he imagined, what he knew his men had and likely still would have suffered in her defence had the order not come through. He despised her.

Traitors, all of them, but especially her. She who had tricked him, manipulated him with her feigned respect for her - no, his troops; she’d forged her own naivety and lulled him into complacent - probably would have had him Court Marshalled for their antics had the Chancellor not enlightened him of the Jedi’s plot in time. 

Finally, she sensed his presence - or finally ran out of reckless bravado and turned to face him - overconfident in his loyalty to her, she whipped round, blue strands of hair clinging to her forehead in disarray as she grinned at him. 

He hesitated at the smile, so rare and yet so - so…wonderful. The relief was evident on her face at first. It was as if time slowed then, the motions of her sweat dampened hair slowing in the gales as the warmth slipped from her face; mouth closing in a thin line as she registered his stance. Her lightsabre, still ignited, flickered imperceptibly. 

How dare she.

The bitch. His men had died for her. He would have once too, in an instant he would have laid down his life to protect her.

He raised his blaster, and she her sabre. 

She hesitated, he didn’t this time. 

It was over so quickly that by the time her smoking corpse hit the sodden platform beneath it, his blaster was already strapped back in its holster. Justice, he had thought as he turned away, a faceless trooper clapping his shoulder in support as he left the charred remains. 

He believed it, that this was justice, and he convinced himself that the lone tear escaping one eye was from the ashes. 

End. 

[Masterlist]

Tag List:

@whoathereyall-blog , @queencousland101 , @sugarpuffsstuff , @darkafvet07 , @cyarbika , @rosmariner

[fraufichtner]

Hallo Sternchen,

ich will das Tabu-Thema brechen, ich will offen und ehrlich sagen wie es mir geht, denn es ist kein Tabu-Thema, DU bist kein Tabu-Thema!

Glaub mir, mein kleiner Engel, du warst zwar nicht geplant, aber von Sekunde Eins so sehr gewollt! Als ich von dir erfahren habe, da habe ich vor zittern den zweiten Strich erst nicht richtig erkannt. Als ich es aber kurz darauf überrissen habe, da war meine erste Reaktion: ich habe den Test aus der Hand gelegt, mir mit der rechten Hand den Mund zu gehalten und mit meiner linken Hand sofort meinen Bauch berührt. Wieso hat mein Instinkt die linke Hand zu meinem Bauch geführt? - weil sie so viel näher am Herzen ist, genau dort, wo du ab dieser Sekunde deinen Platz gefunden hast! Mitten in meinem Herzen! Natürlich war ich kurz geschockt, weil es einfach doch so unerwartet kam, aber die Freude war so viel größer! Ich habe mich so auf dich gefreut. WIR haben uns so auf dich gefreut.

Heute weis ich genau 43 Tage von dir, die schönsten meines Lebens. Ich habe die ersten Merkmale wahrgenommen. Du hast mich ganz schön oft auf die Toilette gehen lassen, mir schöne Pickel geschenkt, die Müdigkeit war extrem, die Brüste haben gespannt und sogar mein Bauch durfte etwas wachsen. Ich habe mich über all die Sachen gefreut, weil ich wusste, dass sie mich ein Stückchen mehr an MEIN kleines Wunder bringen werden. DICH! Dein Papa und ich haben über nichts anderes mehr geredet, du warst unser Mittelpunkt, genau so wie es auch sein sollte. Du hast seit der ersten Sekunde direkt einen riesigen Platz in unseren Herzen. Wir haben mit dir gesprochen, ich habe viele Entscheidungen nur noch getroffen nachdem ich an dich dachte, habe auf viel verzichtet und das mit einer Leichtigkeit, weil ich wusste, es bringt mich ein Stückchen mehr an MEIN kleines Wunder. Es sind Familienangehörige mit mir Schwanger, wir haben uns so gefreut, wir haben euch schon alle zusammen krabbeln sehen, haben stundenlang darüber gesprochen, wie es sein wird, was wir dann mit den Kids machen..

Es wäre alles so schön gewesen, aber leider ist es das nicht immer. Du hast dich dazu entschieden zu den Sternchen zu fliegen. Ich kann es dir nicht einmal verdenken, dieses funkeln, dieser Anblick von den ganzen kleinen Lichtern dort am Himmel, sie waren einfach interessant und du wolltest sie genauer anschauen. Und jetzt.. jetzt siehst du mir von oben zu. Ich hab jetzt mein eigenes Sternchen. Als ich heute bei meiner Ärztin war, zur Kontrolle, ob dein kleines Herzchen schlägt.. mir war kotz übel. Beim ersten Mal, als ich dich sah, da hab ich dich sofort wahrgenommen, du hast dich eingenistet, in deiner Fruchthöhle, hast es dir gemütlich gemacht. Doch leider sollte das erste Mal auch gleichzeitig das letzte Mal sein. Ich verlor dich in der 11 SSW. Heute sah ich nur noch die Fruchthöhle, die Ärztin hat gar nichts gesagt und schon liefen mir die Tränen über mein Gesicht. Meine ersten Gedanken? -Niemals! Das kann nicht sein, da muss etwas sein! Wieso ich? Ich bin so jung. Ich hätte dich so sehr gewollt. Ich wäre dir eine gute Mutter gewesen. Bitte lass mich träumen.

Von der einen auf die andere Sekunde war die Übelkeit weg, ich war nur noch leer und mein Körper hat nur noch funktioniert. Das ist das wahnsinnige am Menschen. Wenn wir uns noch so leer fühlen, funktioniert der Geist trotzdem, der Körper macht irgendwie weiter. Ich würde behaupten, dass ich in meinem Leben schon so ziemlich jeden Schmerz gefühlt habe, aber das ist nochmal ne Nummer. Aber es ist ok, ich schaffe das, weil ich weis, du hattest deinen Grund. Ich werde noch ewig an dir hängen, werde noch lange um dich weinen. Ich werde mir noch lange bei jeder Schwangeren, bei jedem Kind und bei jeder glücklichen Familie die Tränen verdrücken, weil ich es mir auch so sehr gewünscht hätte. Aber dennoch werde ich mich für die Personen freuen, denn jeder hat das Glück verdient. Jeder hat ein kleines Wunder verdient.

Dein Papa hat dir einen Spitznamen gegeben, Kaugummi. Wieso Kaugummi? - als wir von dir erfahren haben, da sahst du so ähnlich aus. Immer wenn wir mit dir oder über dich geredet haben, dann haben wir immer Kaugummi gesagt. Total schwachsinnig, aber du warst kein ‚das Baby‘, du bist unser Kaugummi.

Heute war ein sehr schlimmer Tag für uns. Ich habe mich dennoch so gut aufgehoben gefühlt bei meiner Ärztin. Eine Medizinische Fachangestellte erzähle mir, dass sie das Selbe auch schon durch hat. Sie erzähle mir, wie es bei ihr war. Ich habe mich ihr gegenüber so vertraut gefühlt. Sie sprach mir aus der Seele. Sie meinte ‚wein, wenn dir danach ist und wo dir danach ist, lass es raus!‘ und genau das ist es! Wieso sollte ich es verschweigen, wieso sollte ich DICH verschweigen? Du hast einen Platz in meinem Herzen, es waren einige Wochen, die du in mir warst. Ich habe dir so viel Liebe gegeben, jeden Tag mit dir gesprochen, meine Zukunft umgeschmissen, habe schon vieles geplant. Wieso sollte ich nicht trauern dürfen und wieso sollte ich DICH verschweigen? Es passiert so vielen Frauen, viel mehr als wir denken.

Du bist nun mein kleines Sternchen und ich verspreche dir, dass ich dich nicht verschweige, ich rede offen und ehrlich über dich. Und von heute an habe ich einen ganz anderen Blick auf den Himmel, als ich ihn noch gestern hatte, denn du bist ein Teil davon und dieser Platz in meinem Herzen, den wirst du auf Ewig haben. Kaugummi, wir lieben dich so sehr. Auch wenn deine kleinen Füße die Erde nie berührten, sind deine Spuren trotzdem da.

In ewiger Liebe,

deine Mama von hier unten.

-fraufichtner